So there I was, facing a serious decision. What meal should I talk about for my first real posting? Should I go to a New Orleans staple like Mother's, or should I be lazy and just have a kick-ass PB&J? Then I thought "You know what? It has been too long since I have eaten Vietnamese noodles". So I decided to ignore all of the poor boys around town and go for what has to be my favorite East Asian cuisine. It was not until after I had looked up how many Vietnamese restaurants are in NOLA that I realized that I was eating a staple of the city. It turns out that during the Vietnam War there were 5 waves of Vietnamese immigration into the United States starting in 1975. One of which was one of the largest relief efforts in United Nations history. But why come to New Orleans? As it so happened the city, and the entire state of Louisiana, was very active in welcoming refugees from the war. The large Catholic community and climate similar to their native land were also incentives the refugees. And as word spread that a large Vietnamese community was growing in New Orleans, more and more people arrived. Over the next few decades Vietnamese groceries and restaurants appeared and their popularity spread. Now there are many restaurants throughout the city that feature the cuisine.
And all of this history and preservation of culture was the reason that I had the Sliced Pork and Spring Roll Noodle Bowl sitting in font of me. I was lucky, I had arrived during the lunch hour which meant that my order also included a small soup. Now this soup was just the beginning of an absolutely wonderful meal.
The thing that first appealed to me about this soup was the simplicity of it. It was just chicken broth with rice noodles and cabbage with cilantro and chives as garnish. That was it. A little something before the meal with just enough flavor and substance to to stave off hunger without filling you up. It satisfied you, but left you wanting more, which is where the noodle bowl came in. First of all, just look at that. It is a work of art, a sense of symmetry among all of that chaos.
And then there was the FLAVOR! The main reason that I love Vietnamese food so much is that it plays with both light and intense flavors that somehow blend together perfectly. My first instinct was to taste the cut up spring roll, which was filled with a rich, earthy combination of vegetables, bean curd noodles (what my little brother calls cellophane noodles), and soy sauce all bundled up together in a crispy, crunchy wrap. Then, having poured the sweet, sour, and spicy side sauce all over the noodles so that they do not stick, I jumped right in. After trying a bite of noodle, wonderfully light and filling in case you were wondering, I could not resist taking a bite of that perfectly cooked pork. Oh, what a sensation! The pork had been grilled with spices right in the pan, creating a flavor filled crispy edge to the meat that had the perfect amount of give and chew. Having taken a few bites, I then discovered a surprise hidden underneath all of those noodles. There was a bed of shredded cabbage, carrots and cabbage that had been in a light vinegar brine. This provided just a hint of sour and salty elements to the dish. Having found all of the aspects of such an eclectic dish, I then spent the rest of the meal combining different combinations to find which flavors I liked best. This playful experimentation made me realize that the light aspects of the noodles and vegetables were absolutely delicious when combined with the heavy, intense flavors of the meat and spring roll. But the true miracle in that bowl is that no matter how strong the meat was, those light elements were able to shine through. It was a perfect balance of the flavors that was savory, sour, sweet, spicy, and yet was so light that I could clear my plate without even thinking about it. The heavy sauces of other cuisines, Italian marinara comes to mind, are all wonderful. But for the life of me, I always have to struggle to get through a full meal and clear my plate. (a rule I made for myself after working 4 years as a dishwasher). If I were to recommend this dish to anyone in particular, I would have to say that it is perfect for the Distracted Eater. For the person who can never finish a meal because they simply get bored with the flavor, this is the cuisine for you. Every time I took a bite of this meal full of its delightful little contradictions, I discovered a new experience in flavor that I had not noticed before. I left the table satisfied, full, and ready for more.
Very few children were there, but it did look like there were parents gathering supplies for a large family-sized dinner. What struck me the most was a sense of being in a group. All people in the store, myself included, acted and felt like the shopping experience was somehow better, that all of the products that were sold here were exclusively for us. A very large community, connected by the thousands of other stores across the nation, were all buying these products that no else had access too. We were special.
Langenstein's is the iconic corner grocery. Small, packed with food, narrow but full isles, little corners hidden away from a cursory glance over the store. To get into the store a person walks by what seems like dozens of jars of olives, bottles of cider and apple juice, and soda that I had last tasted while in Europe. Wandering through the maze of food I flashed back to Aldi's as a child, finding food that is did not know existed in a grand adventure of discovery. Watching a three year old toddler running through and exploring Langenstein's, I felt a smile tug at my lips and a wave of nostalgia and memories flashed through my mind. Families and children walked through the store, some stopping to talk to good friends while passing each other at the meat counter. The staff were either in their late fifties, looking like they had worked there all of their lives, or late teens early twenties, trying to pay off student loans or finally getting that car. But Langenstein's small size hides a huge variety of products. The olives and sodas already mentioned were just the tip of the iceberg.
While their strength seemed to be in canned and non-perishable goods, I found in the refrigerated section a pre-made squid salad that looked like it had been made that day. This salad was not something you would find in any chain store, it was the product that seafood-rich New Orleans could provide for the people who grew up on it. This was a store that you wandered through and explored as a child, bought soda from as a teenager, scrounged for a bargain as a starving young adult trying to make it in the world, and brought your kids to when you needed to swing by to get dinner after school. This store was the kind of stores that are as much a part of the community as the local playground. Whole Foods also has a sense of community, but it is an artificial one that was created when the store was built. Langenstein's community grew organically through generations of families all swinging by the store to get whatever need needed to be satisfied. Both grocery stores were wonderful with many products that I need or will need. But the moment that I walked into Langenstein's I felt at home, and knew that this was the place that I would be coming back to.
But once you actually open the door and go inside, you are suddenly transported to New Orleans circa 1950. The only seating available is counter top with round stools all crowded together facing the grill. The sounds of grilling meat and the bustling of servers greets you as you sit down community style, right next to a perfect stranger, and wait to be helped. You you are always entertained though. Having worked in an open kitchen, where all of the food is prepared where the customer can watch, I have to say that they are some of my favorites. You can always watch as meat is thrown onto the grill with a satisfying sizzle, or you can listen to the witty and playful banter that goes on in every kitchen. It looked like the people running Camellia Grill were doing things the exact same way they had been doing for the past 20 years. And that had to be as close as possible to way things were done there for the 40 years before that. In 2012 I was sitting down in a 1950 diner in a building that looked like an 1800's townhouse. And the service was just as friendly, efficient, and affable as people describe in "the good old days". After watching my Reuben's creation take place literally 4 feet from me, I dug in. I have always loved corned beef, having it for St. Patrick's day for years, and the idea of Reubens always made since to me. The tartness of the sauerkraut perfectly balanced with the creamy consistency of the thousand island dressing never would have crossed my mind for a sandwich, but the Reuben is a winner and I tip my hat to whoever it was who first created it. It is messy, rich, and cannot be beat.
After a few bites of intense Reuben flavor, I needed a break, so I turned to the mountain of fries filling the basket casually handed to me. And here I received a wonderful surprise. Dipping the fries in ketchup, poured from a glass bottle of course, I bit into a fry that was crispy yet fluffy. Everyone can make fries that have crunch, but the real miracle is the fry that has the crunch but still retains the fluffy potato inside. Get a MacDonald's fries and you will have a wonderfully crunchy and salty experience, but you cannot taste the potato. It could be made of anything. But the fries as Camellia Grill told you that they were made of potato and don't you forget it!
Alternating between rich, powerful flavors of corned beef, kraut, cheese, and rye with the acidic ketchup that was brought on a perfectly fried platter of potato I scarfed down every bite. The food was amazing. But what really made Camellia Grill such an experience was the